Ten years ago today I was at work. I was the principal at Scurry-Rosser Elementary School...a position I had officially held for six weeks. I remember the excitement of that new job...that new campus...that new community...those new coworkers...all the things that come about with a new job. I had replaced someone who was...ummm...less that proficient. I was eager to prove to my staff that I wasn't retiring TO Scurry-Rosser but was there to work my butt off to make things better UNTIL I retired somewhere in the distant future. I was eager to prove to myself that, after my last experience, I was still a valuable employee who actually did know what I was doing and who could, without being micro-managed, bring about positive things for my school, my students, my staff, my community and myself. That being said, I was all over that building...constantly checking in on things...getting to know my building...my staff...the curriculum...
I remember that I had just stepped into my office when I got "that" phone call...the one that stops your heart. Innocent enough, my husband called me to tell me that he had completed his physical for work and there were concerns about his EKG. His "T waves" were depressed (whatever that means...it isn't good) and they wanted him to have a heart catheterization which he had dutifully scheduled for the following Monday. While on the phone he told me that a plane had hit one of the towers in New York. Believing it to be a tragic accident, we talked on about his upcoming procedure and how I would take off work to accompany him to Medical Center Plano where the procedure would be done. In and out in a couple of hours...we'd have lunch out...hadn't had a lot of time together in recent weeks because of the new job and my OCD tendencies and wanting to be perfect...Whatever. I remember Ronnie being in midsentence when his tone changed and he said, "Oh, my God! It just happened again! A plane has hit the other tower! I think we are under attack!" I don't remember hanging up the phone. I don't remember a lot of things...it all became a blur. However, there are many things that I do remember. I remember that the phones began ringing off the wall. We went into lockdown and asked the teachers to turn off their computers and cell phones. I did not want the students to hear about this incident via our computers or overhearing a teacher who was alerted by their cell phone. I went door-to-door to tell the teachers what was happening. We had students and staff members who had relatives in the military and stationed in or near the middle east. The phones began ringing off the hook with frantic parents being released from their jobs in Dallas and headed home to pick up their children. I literally stood at the front door for hours that afternoon to identify parents and call into the building for their children to be released. I will NEVER forget the faces of the parents...terrified. I will never forget the faces of the children...bewildered. I will never forget the faces of my staff...determined, yet broken. All of that while in the back of my mind I kept hearing my husband's voice saying, "There's a problem with my EKG. I'm sure it's nothing but they want me to go to the hospital and have this test."
Somehow we made it through that day and made it home to be glued in front of the television for updates on what was going on. Images flowed through the air into our home and seared themselves into my brain. I remember watching the footage of the second plane hitting the tower. I remember the faces of the citizens on the street caught by the cameras, both professional and amateur, as the second plane plowed into the other tower. And how could any forget? I remember the look on the face of our President as he sat in an elementary school classroom and a presidential assistant leaned in and whispered something into his ear. I will never be able to forget that look. My heart broke for President Bush...trapped in a position where he could not react to the news. He was, after all, in a room full of children. He was the man we would be watching to gauge his reaction and determine for ourselves how to react to the events that would be taking place over the days...weeks...months...and even years ahead.
I remember being at work in the following days. I remember needing a break from the overwhelming chaos swirling around me. I remember going outside and standing on the playground. I remember staring up into the sky and being overwhelmed by the quiet. No planes in the sky. No white vapor trails chasing each other among the clouds. Just clear, blue, quiet sky. As peaceful as it may sound, I remember being frightened by that.
The days ahead raced by and became a blur. I remember taking my husband to the hospital on Sept. 17th for his heart catheterization. I remember the doctor coming out to tell me that he found several severe blockages and that they could not allow him to go home for fear of the procedure causing a heart attack. I remember him saying that Ronnie would need heart surgery. I remember that the doctor was concerned that they might not be able to get their hands on enough blood for the surgery due to the events of 9/11. I remember making the phone calls to my children...to my family...to my boss. My husband has family in the community in which I was working and I had to let family know before I called my boss. I didn't want them to hear about it from school. It's a small community and word travels fast! After that my memory gets a little swiss-cheese like. I remember standing by my husband's bed at some point and watching the 9/11 fundraiser on television. I remember not going home for 9 days as my husband began his recovery from triple bypass surgery...a recovery consisting on one step forward and two steps back.
I am a very tender-hearted person. Thankfully, my husband's surgery kept me from focusing on the events of the time. It kept me from seeing the footage of those brave souls that, faced with the inevitable, jumped from those towers to their deaths. It kept me from the daily reports of the rescue efforts, the stories of police and firefighters sacrificing their own safety...their lives...in the recovery efforts. It kept me from "experiencing" 9/11 in the same way that many people experienced it.
My own 9/11 experience is unique. Unique to me. Ronnie's surgery and recovery was complicated. While the surgery went well...the recovery was a roller coaster ride. Ronnie's heart developed a "sawtooth pattern." People commonly refer to that as atrial fibrillation, or A-fib. It was necessary to perform a procedure in which they took Ronnie into a surgical suite, sedated him, and then used "the paddles" to stop his heart and then restart it in a regular pattern. A-fib. A problem he still faces today and takes medicine for routinely. At any rate, these complications kept me distracted, but not immune, from world events. Facing the fear of losing my husband and my life as I knew it, I felt great empathy for those who experienced loss in that cowardly ambush of America. I understood their fear of the unknown. I felt it. I "got" it. But most of all...I WILL NEVER FORGET IT!!
God, have mercy on and bless our nation! May we always be able to say, "I Remember!"
